Last night on my way to Bart, I walked behind an Asian guy built like Ichiro, the perfect ninja build. He had a Giants cap, black puma jacket, cargo shorts and black calf socks, like the ones I wear playing basketball. I followed him because he looked like a ninja in a modern world, imagined him as an underworld antihero, powers of darkness for good, a tortured soul finding his place in a world of echoes. I took a video of him walking under the yellow light of the streetlamps, myself quietly stalking, the full moon above, lending a mysterious, mystical, fateful air. For inspiration for a later story.
Ps–new laptop has arrived. Finally. Can start writing/streaming again with a real keyboard. The iTouchscreens really crimp my flow.
About 3-6 months ago, I had the feeling that the person I’m looking for is now someone I’ve already met.
Old moon fades into the new, and soon I know I’ll be back with you. I’m nearly with you (I’m bending time), I’m nearly with you (to get back to you).
I realized last night that this space IS my Venus in 12th expression. My hidden romantic expression, my secret depths. Like night and day, what I show in the real world is surface, but when the night falls, I get to be whole.
I used to be so good at tracking the roots of my references, knowing what things I said, thought, quoted were me, where I’d found things that were from outside of me. Like funny one-liners or references. But with the way information is converging today, it doesn’t matter. Inside or outside, it’s all the same.